


the goat one-shot

by helloimtrash



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Movie 14, There's a goat, also a little pining, ok a lot of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloimtrash/pseuds/helloimtrash
Summary: They're family now.





	the goat one-shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calculatrice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calculatrice/gifts), [ZaiBan2989](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaiBan2989/gifts).



> Hello

“I’m taking the goat.”

“KID, you can’t take the goat.”

KID turns his head to look at him, unaware of the goat idly munching on a piece of his cape. “Don’t believe me, just watch.” He focuses on the goat again, cupping its head between his gloved hands and rubbing his nose against the animal’s, and the goat licks his cheek, nearly making the monocle fall off. “Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy! Yes you’re a good boy!”

KID’s eyes are scrunched up because he’s laughing so hard; cheerful, carefree. Full of life. _Genuine._ It isn’t the evil laugh the thief occasionally lets out after pulling off a successful trick, the one Conan takes pleasure in cutting off with a well-aimed soccer ball. This one is light and heavy at the same time and it echoes in the dead, rural silence of the island they’re stuck in, like the first laugh of an infant, like the blossoming of a new fairy.

Conan stares at him for a little too long ( _mesmerized_ ) before he looks away, ignoring the weird feeling bubbling in his chest.

His eyes land on the ocean, beautiful _beautiful_ azure shiny rug spread out for miles and miles and the only urge he has is to look back at the white thief–he blames it on the laugh he can still hear.

He clears his throat.

“Alright,” he says, and KID looks over again. “I didn’t want to come to this, but,” he walks up to KID, and Conan’s thankful the thief’s crouched down because they’re on the same height and he can level his gaze, stand his ground. “It’s either me,” Conan crosses his arms, “or the goat.”

KID stares.

“Are you seriously considering choosing the _goat_?” Conan chokes, offended.

“No– _no_!” KID insists in front of his unimpressed gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m never going to abandon _you_ ,” Conan’s heart does something crazy, “over a goat,” KID finishes, and he looks sadly at the animal for a second, before a sudden grin stretches his lips. “I’ve never been one to bend to ultimatums though, you should know that better than anyone, Detective. There’s always a third option~”

Snippets of memories wash over Conan: a crowded roundabout, in the middle of the city under a night sky, an impossible trick–

(up or down?)

“Both!” KID pipes up.

“No,” Conan immediately says. “It won’t fit the helicopter,” he adds, in a vain attempt to dissuade the stubborn thief.

“ _Please_ ,” KID huffs, brushing his statement off like it’s nothing, like fitting an entire mammal in a limited, closed space is nothing. _Then again_ , Conan thinks. _Magician_.

“Come on, tantei-kun! I mean,” the thief turns to face Conan completely. “Look at the cute face.”

Conan’s eyes automatically dart on KID, before he blinks upon realizing the thief probably meant the _goat_. He diverges his gaze in a way he hopes is subtle, and he spends the next seventeen seconds cursing himself. The animal’s staring back at him with something akin to _annoyance._

Even the goat was done with him.

“We’re not taking him,” Conan decides, vexed. “That’s final. I’m not backing down on this. We. Are. Not. Taking. The goat.”

.

They took the goat.

“If your goat pukes, it’s on you.”

“You know, you can say _our_ goat. We’re a family now.”

“Please don’t drag me into this.”

“He’s not going to puke, he has way too much _class_. Look at him riding this blimp like a pro. Can’t say the same thing about you.”

“Oh shut up,” Conan grumbles from where he’s clutching KID’s leg with both of his arms. Sue him, he’s currently thirty-nine pounds and they’re seven-hundred feet above the ocean: the wind was _strong_.

They’re both standing on the roof of the blimp staring at the animal in front of them who, surprisingly enough, stands his ground and isn’t blown away. Conan examines the goat’s face closely. "He's in distress. I can't believe I’m saying this, your goat's in distress. This is _not_ a goat’s natural habitat. This is the opposite of a goat’s natural habitat."

"Is it distress though?” KID says. “Or is it the excited reaction to a brand new experience?"

“It’s definitely distress.”

“Potato, pot-ah-to.”

They stare in silence for a few more seconds, Conan’s hands clutching the fabric of KID’s pants, head idly resting against the thief’s leg.

“We should name him,” KID suddenly says. “Let’s see…”

When Conan looks up, he sees the most concentrated look the thief has even worn. Frowns burrowed, forehead puckered, thumb and index finger around his chin mimicking the pose Shinichi likes to adopt when he’s thinking.

(Conan ignores the thing that explodes within him at the sight)

“I have a name,” he says, almost reluctantly.

KID looks down at him. “Yeah? Shoot.”

“Sh–“

“No.”

“But–“

“Meitantei,” KID cuts him, calm. “Our goat isn’t going to bear the name of a _detective_. If anything, we should name him Lupin.”

“You’re not naming him after a _thief_.”

He doesn’t mean to spit the word like it was the worst offense someone could ever make, but he does, eyes filled with disdain and nose wrinkled in disgust. He lets go of KID’s pants, backs off two steps–he’d regained his balance since their disastrous landing anyway–and he immediately feels a _lack_.

(he ignores that too)

“Detective, you wound me,” KID says in a pained voice, clutching his chest. He recovers almost straight away because the next thing that spills out his mouth is: “How about Maurice?”

“KID, we’re talking about a goat, not an earl in nineteen-century France. Redbeard?”

“Not under my watch, no.”

Silence falls upon them and their gazes simultaneously land on the goat once again.

“Wait, I know.”

“I said no detectives!”

“Nevermind.”

A pause.

“Oh my god,” Conan says after a minute. “I don’t care. I don’t even know why I’m participating in this nonsense. Name him whatever the fuck you want–”

“ _Shin-chan_ ,” KID suddenly marveled like he just had the epiphany of the century.

“–except that.”

KID puts his open palm on the animal’s forehead. “Goat, you are henceforth known as Shin-chan.”

“KID, I’m serious. Don’t.”

"Moh, you're no fun. Shin-chan, tell him how he's no fun."

An incoherent noise.

"He's saying you're no fun, tantei-kun."

“Being _fun,_ ” Conan mutters through gritted teeth, “isn’t what’s going to get rid of those terrorists.” 

And it’s like a cold shower. The events of the last hours washes over him and it makes his blood freeze cold in his veins. The Red Siamese Cats the hijacked blimp the bacteria the crowd panic _Ran_.

There’s no time to screw around. He has work to do.

Conan looks up, and blinks upon meeting the indigo gaze looking at him.

“You coming?”

“No. I’m just gonna,” he lays down, arms crossed behind his head, the wind fluttering his locks not seeming to bother him at all, “chill here with Shin-chan. Go do your thing.”

Conan’s about to let himself drop down the blimp, but KID’s voice stops him short in his tracks.

“Hey, tantei.” He looks up and meets KID’s gaze, uncharacteristically serious, staring at him sideways. “Be careful.”  

(he’s not laughing anymore.)

.

.

The plate hanging next to the door reads _Kuroba_.

Conan eyes it for a second, before standing on his toes to ring the doorbell. He fidgets with the sleeves of the new blazer Ran bought him, brushes the bangs off his eyes before crossing his hands behind his back.

There’s a _bang!,_ followed by a loud unidentifiable noise, footsteps down the stairs and a _voice_.

Conan can recognize it everywhere, muffled or smug or yelling or laughing or whispering in a crowd or high _high_ above the ocean or low under the ground or or or through the _door_ –

“ _Aoko I swear to God if I find those finny things on my doorstep one more_ time _I’m going to_ –“ It opens with a soft creak and–there he was. KID’s looking straight ahead first, but upon finding no one, he drops his head down. “Hey? Are you lost, kid?”

In the next three seconds, Conan learns six facts.

  1. KID has a _fashion sense_ and looks straight out of the cover of _Vogue Japan_ , from the peach flannel tied around his waist to skinny black jeans stopping mid-calf and revealing a bracelet around his left ankle.
  2. KID has great legs.
  3. His house smells of goat and sugar.
  4. KID looks like a more casual, raggedy version of his teenage self, and his name is Kuroba.
  5. KID’s pokerface is _good_.



“No,” Conan says, a bit light-headed, and he has to pause and remember to breathe. “No, I’m not.” The grin pulling his lips is painful around his cheeks, but he doesn’t stop. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Um–what do you mean?”

“You tell me, KID.”

“What?” He looks genuinely confused. The _bastard_. “KID? What makes you think I’m KID?”

Conan licks his lips and tilts his head, amused. “I don’t know, off the top of my head? I’d say, maybe the goat in your living room?”

“There’s no goat here.”

“I saw it through your window. Plus, I can _smell_ it.”

“Anyone could have a goat.”

 “Yes, yes, anyone,” Conan nods, “in _Sri Lanka_."

"Okay, okay, point–but how do you know it's _the_ goat."

A pause, then, not breaking eye contact, through gritted teeth: " _Shin-chan_."

A faint _beh_ in the distance.

Conan raises his eyebrows.

He knows KID’s smart, so he isn’t surprised when the guy sighs and takes a step aside to let him in– he knows when he’s cornered.

Conan waltzes in like a pacha. He stops on the threshold of the living room to take in his surroundings, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. Upon seeing him, the goat walks up to him and nuzzles his face against his cheek. Conan doesn’t make any movement to stop it–only smiles, one eye closed.

“He remembers you!” KID exclaims somewhere behind him, delighted.

He’s right beside him, hands on his knees, leaning forward in Conan’s peripheral vision. He’s so _close_.

(of _course_ he smells of lavender)

“I can’t believe you actually brought it home.”

“Where else would I’ve brought it?”

“I don’t know,” Conan mumbles absentmindedly, finally giving up and petting the animal. “Drop it somewhere and leave it there?”

KID gasps and clutches his chest, scandalized. _“_ Tantei-kun! Why would you even _think_ of such a thing?”

“You’re right, what was I thinking,” Conan rolls his eyes. On an afterthought, he adds: “ _Ohana_ means family, after all.”

And there it is again–the laugh, KID’s laugh, cutting the air in half, startling Conan for the briefest of a second. If there were any doubts regarding his identity to begin with, there aren’t any now.

“How dare you outweird me,” KID snickers. “You’re not allowed to be funny when you’re about to arrest me, Meitantei. Cut it out.”

The shift in the atmosphere is so sudden Conan has to take a moment to process it. It’s not light anymore, it’s heavy and tainted with the inexorable knowledge of what’s coming next, what _has_ to come next–

Conan stops petting the goat and turns around to face KID. The thief’s leaning against the wall and staring at him with those indigo eyes. No horror, or resignation, or even sadness. Just burning curiosity.

“I’m not here to arrest you,” Conan says.

A crack in the thief’s pokerface–a simple frown, yet giving away so much. Confusion and curiosity and _excitement_. Conan can almost feel the cogs of his brain creaking, the _badum-badum-badum_ of his heart mirroring his own.

“What are you here for, then?”

Conan clears his throat and looks down. The reason he came here, he knows it damn well. It’s been sitting at the back of his mind since they wrapped up the Siamese cats case. He’d been too busy with other, more urgent stuff in the moment, too embarrassed after.

He knows he has to do this, though, so he clears his throat and looks up tentatively. He got this, he repeated over and over dozens of different speeches in his head before coming here. He knows what he has to say. _You didn’t have to jump after me but you did, you saved my life, you didn’t even hesitate or think twice and I know it’s not the first time nor would it be the last time, realistically, and I just wanted. I wanted to tell you–_

“Thank you,” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth.

(it’s not what he wanted to tell him)

KID’s staring at him, arms crossed and face blank. Conan can’t tell what he’s thinking. He fidgets with the sleeve of his blazer.

Then, the thief (the thief the thief the _thief_ ) opens his mouth.

“You’re welcome, Kudou.”

 _Kudou_. A reminder. He doesn’t have the upper hand, he never did. Conan nods. The words go unsaid. They’ve never been one to point out the obvious anyway.

  1. Betray me and I’ll betray you.



“So,” KID stuffs his hands in the tight pockets of his jeans, thumbs sticking out. “What now?”  

Conan doesn’t pause to think.

“Like I said,” he replies, not once breaking eye contact. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Kuroba stares back at him with indigo _fire_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The goat stays in their backyard, even though Aoko thinks it’s insane and ridiculous. It stays there when Conan curls around a mug of black coffee, seated at Kuroba’s kitchen table, listening to the flow of words spilling out of Kuroba’s mouth and he’s barely breathing between sentences, like he’s been waiting for years to finally confess and he can’t stop, he can’t stop pouring his heart out.

It stays there when Kuroba makes a spare of his house key and slips it into Conan’s pocket at one of the detective’s visits the night before a heist, to go over the procedures in case of a B.O appearance. Conan lets him.

It stays there when Kaito decides to have a _family_ dinner and cooks up a special menu just for _Shin-chan_ , allowing it to eat at table. Conan complains the whole time.

It stays there when Conan bursts into Kuroba’s room, so excited he’s stammering over his words, shaking aloft a capsule containing one, single pill.

It stays there when Kuroba calls Shinichi at 4:16AM to whine about how Aoko and Hakuba started seeing each other, he hated the bastard, how can she do this to him! Shinichi only answers with well-placed “ _mmh_ ” every seven sentences but he doesn’t hang up.

It stays there when Shinichi and Kaito stumble through the door one late night or early morning, barely supporting each other, and collapses onto the beat-up couch, laughing themselves to tears and gripping onto each other _tight_ despite the pain of the superficial scrapes all over their bodies. They laugh, laugh, laugh. Giddy, hysteric. Happy.

(Kaito’s laugh is music to his ears)

It stays there when Shinichi and Kaito fall asleep at three in the morning in front of _A Study in Pink_ , clad in their pajamas, Kaito’s head on the detective’s lap, moonlight peeping through the scarlet curtains.

It eventually moves out when Kaito volunteers to decorate the backyard for the special day. Shinichi’s first reflex is to say no, I’m not letting _you_ in charge, but Kaito goes ahead and does it anyway. And the result is. Not what Shinichi expected. Candles, buffet, flowers. It’s quiet and intimate and perfect and Shinichi’s genuine smile (there seems to be a lot of _those_ lately) makes his lips split in half and his eyes scrunch up. Kaito simply laughs and tugs him for a dance.

The goat moves back in the backyard the day after the wedding.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so... that's that. 
> 
> thanks to Calculatrice for contributing to this awful thing (i.e. with two (2) lines, the funniest two lines in this os – _is it distress or an excited reaction to a brand new experience?_ and *through gritted teeth* “Shin-chan” / “beh” ) and to Zai for existing
> 
> Also, on the same note, the whole "Shinichi and Kaito laughing themselves to tears" paragraph is a direct reference to Calculatrice's brand new drabble, "So it Goes", which you should go read right this instant if you haven't yet. 
> 
> This whole thing started off a crack (of fucking course my inspiration only rises when it hears the word "imagine KID taking the goat with him" on whatsapp and not, you know, while thinking about my actual multi-chap fanfic) but then idk how this happened. guess im physically incapable of not writing fluff. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it (? is that possible? i have no idea what to think of this) 
> 
> xxx


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